It is uncomfortable for moderns (and postmodernists) to consider what the ancients took for granted - that God can determine to judge us, harden our hearts to make judgment inevitable, and be absent to us as judgment is delivered, inevitably, inexorably, and in completeness. Yet, Isaiah had no such qualms. It was quite acceptable for him to consider and to preach the turning away of God from the people of God who had turned away from God in their way of life, if not in their ritual acts.
This small portion of text comes from a larger, communal lament beginning in 63:7, where the favor and grace of God is first recounted, but then rebellions of Israel are recounted as the author says, "But they rebelled and grieved his holy spirit; therefore he became their enemy; he himself fought against them" (63:10). Yet, the Psalmist / author suggests, that this warfare of God against God's children as enemies is designed to make them remember 'the days of old' (v. 11a), and to ask, "Where is the one who brought them up out of the sea" (v. 11b).[and] put within them his holy spirit." (v. 11c)?
The lament continues in suggesting that Israel has become as a nation that God does not rule, and that God's yearning and compassion for them has been withdrawn. Finally, the lament petitions God to turn back for the sake of Israel, and we enter our text with the hope of a cataclysmic advent as startling as the Exodus, as empowering as the giving of the law, and as decisive as the victories of Moses and Joshua. The sin of Israel is acknowledged as the cause of their present state of abandonment, yet, somewhere, deep in the psyche of the communal memory, is the faith to say, "Yet, O LORD, you are our Father." (v. 8).
When I was in my third year of seminary (3 of 4) my step daughter was injured in a car crash that expelled her from the vehicle (no seat belts). She suffered a "closed head brain injury." Basically, that means the brain was jarred to the point that nothing was in its place - no connections were available to her. She lay in a coma for 8 days, and then had to relearn all her motor and cognitive skills for a period of 2 months. If this weren't enough, my wife and I were forced into close proximity with her ex-husband and his family. They, of course, were also grieving, but they also took every opportunity to make life as miserable for my wife and I as possible in very vindictive, selfish ways (acting in concert).
I had never encountered a darker night of the soul. All the questions of Isaiah were present with me. Was this the judgment of God on my household? Why did I surrender my life to a God who could let this happen to the daughter I loved? Why is this man (the x) who abandoned his wife and children for a bar maid ruling my waking hours with the power to harm? I was unable to pray words of my own. I had no faith in my words. I had no faith in my prayers. I had no faith that God was hearing me, or attending to me, and I had no idea (particularly in the 8 days of her coma) whether she would live or die, or whether she would be a vegetable. The doctors could tell us nothing except, "wait."
During that time, the only prayers I could form or speak aloud were the Psalms. I believed that they were the words of God's people, but I wasn't sure I was one of them. Yet, somewhere, deep down, I believed that God would hear the words of God's people even if they came from my lips. I trusted, somehow, even in the midst of being unable to trust. It was, perhaps the most important revelation of my faith not being my faith. Instead, it was the faith of God being expressed through my faithless life. In other words, it was God praying God's words in and through me, in spite of me. I truly learned to throw myself on the mercy of God, while I was struggling with the terror that the outcome would not be the one I would choose. I couldn't conceive of the worse happening, and hoped for the best, but I had no confidence that the best would come - instead, I learned to have the confidence that God would be listening to me even if my lot, my end, was to experience the worst possible outcome.
My daughter did recover, though life was never the same for any of us. It was good, but different. It was radically changed. It wasn't all I 'd hoped, but it was something else - it was the birth of a faith within me that wasn't my own. It was the revelation of a faith within me that was the act of a Living God, who would be the Living God in spite of whether or not I chose to follow the ways of God. My prayer became like Isaiah's: "Change the world, God, and make me your own. Change my life, God, and draw me to you. Change my thinking and acting, God, so that whether good or evil is coming to me, I am able to trust finally in your call and election, and call you Parent, Father, Mother, Creator, Redeemer, Lover, and Friend.
This psalm also reflects the faith of a people abandoned by a God to whom they still choose to pray - not believing that God is looking or listening, yet, without recourse except to shout to the heavens in hope for the restoration they desperately need, even though they certainly understand it is not deserved in any way by their way of life. Still, they petition, "Restore us, O LORD God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved" (v.19).
Paul reminds a divided church, a people who have forgotten the meaning of the message they received, that it was God who called them into the body of Christ, and equipped them for service. In other words, Paul is expressing the same confidence as Isaiah - that in spite of this church's bickering and back stabbing, in spite of their factions and boastful pride in their own ways, God would lead them back into the fellowship of Christ.
Was there ever a darker picture drawn upon the tapestry of the imagination than the portraits of the prophets concerning the Day of the Lord? No one will be spared. Everyone will suffer (contra the popular fiction novels that suggest a rapture will remove the Christians pre-tribulation). Jesus asks in another place, "When the Son of Man returns, will he find faith" (Luke 18:8). The context there was of the widow who could get no justice from the ornery judge. The description is of the fledgling community of disciples who will endure great hardship in carrying the message of the gospel to Jerusalem, Judea, and all the ends of the earth. Will they hang in? Will they be able to believe when the mountains fall on saint and sinner alike? Will they persevere in faith? Of course, we presume the answer is going to be 'yes.' Yet, isn't it possible that the answer will be 'no?' Isn't it possible that we will find ourselves to be the faithless people Isaiah is describing when the foundations of heaven and earth are shaken? Isn't it possible that God will spare 'the elect' when it's over, just because God chooses to do so? If my life is any indication, I sure hope so.
The juxtaposition of these two texts and this probing question will provide the preacher with the opportunity to suggest something radically new to many in the pews - that God's favor and grace may be granted in a future that is not dependent upon the past or present - that God will do something radically new in saving us, even if we (once again) find ourselves in a place where we can't imagine why God would do so except for the character of the God we have heard about in the past (but have forgotten in the present (or future present)). Is your congregation ready to believe that the past year doesn't have to continue into the next? That our past sins will not necessarily overwhelm (again) our future possibilities as the body of Christ? If they're not, this might be a great opportunity to suggest it. Can they let go of past hurts, failures, shortcoming, angers, sorrows, and joys in order to allow a new thing to spring forth? Will they give God room to be gracious? If they are currently cowering in darkness of distress, can they hope for an inbreaking of grace that is inexplicable and wonderful?
(Comments to Michael at mphillip@epix.net.)
First Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)
Berwick, Pennsylvania (Susquehanna North Branch)